Page 57 of Tortured Hearts
He’s proven his loyalty, but Henry’s last breath belongs to me.
“Go upstairs.” I nod toward the back door. “There’s a room off to the right. Wash that shit off and wait for me.”
“The hell I will!”
I clamp my hand firmly on his shoulder. “This isn’t Providence. I’m in control here, and I’m telling you to walk away. Your conscience isn’t ready for that.”
He slides a dark gaze to Henry. “Burn in Hell.” There’s a respectful hatred in his glare as he storms past me, boldly shoulder-checking Anton before stomping up the stairs and slamming the door behind him.
I turn to Henry. “Well, that was entertaining.”
“You two are f-fucking insane,” Henry rasps, his chains rattling as hestarts to bleed out.
“Now, let’s try this again.” Retrieving the cleaver, I wave it at him. “Claim your actions,Marshal,while you still have lips.”
Watching him break is like hearing an old song and still knowing all the words. For four months, I paraded Johnny Malone around like a goddamn show pony. But this is who I am—who I’ll always be. A killer draws strength from the blood of his enemies.
“Fine,” Henry wheezes, another spray of blood dribbling down his chin. “I knew those two idiots were going to show up at the warehouse.”
I clench my jaw at the confession. He’s talking about the men I assumed were leftover Rogue enforcers looking for a payout and sent crawling out of there with empty hands and a busted kneecap. I remember seeing Henry’s face as I walked into the Providence Police Department as if it were yesterday. The mock surprise. The displaced blame.
“You were the one who called in the shots to Ledger.”
“Why do you think I made such a big deal about working the Bentleys? I needed an alibi.”
“Leaving me with none.”My grip on the cleaver tightens. It’s all I can do not to drive it into his skull.“Which strengthened my father’s backdoor plan.”
Henry tries to blink. By now, his nose and eyes have become one giant, misshapen blob. “What backdoor plan?”
“Don’t play dumb, Saddler. I’d say it doesn’t suit you, but we both know better.”
“Gianni,” I hear Anton say behind me.
“I’m not playing anything,” he rasps, his speech slurring. “What’re you?—?”
“Plus, I’m bored,” I say, giving his chest athwackwith the flat side of the cleaver. “Our game has lost my interest, which doesn’t bode well for you. So before you and my handheld friend here get acquainted, I’m going to tell you how royallyfucked my father?—”
“Gianni!” Anton shouts in a sharp, authoritative tone that has me glancing over my shoulder. “I need to talk to you,now.”
“Can’t it wait?” I gesture the cleaver toward Henry. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Assolutamente no. Dobbiamo parlare adesso,Giovanni.”
Hearing him switch to full Italian catches my attention, but telling me, “Absolutely not, we have to talk now,” while using my full name straightens my spine.
Leaving Henry hanging, I follow him to the far corner and fold my arms over my chest, cleaver in hand. “All right, what’s so urgent?”
“I don’t think Marcello clued him in on his plan.”
“Then what reason would he have given Henry to push for my WITSEC assignment?”
“Probably to get you discredited and thrown out, which makes me wonder why Marcello would involve him deeper in this when there were too many variables at risk. Why send Henry to ‘rattle’ Becca? Why not keep him isolated and contain his mouth?” He shakes his head. “Your father isn’t that careless.”
I can’t argue with that, and to be honest, I’m irritated he’s the one to bring it up. “You think he could’ve let Henry in that basement on purpose?”
His nod is curt and to the point. “If he’s going to frame you for running Providence, he’d have to sever the ties linking him back to it.”
“Starting with Henry.”Son of a bitch.“He set us both up.” My knuckles turn white around the handle. “He knew having Henry’s blood on my hands strengthens his false claim.”
